The Empress' Descent

Chapter 48 - The Princess Lies

My feet brought me to Cynthia's gardens. The moon was perfectly round against the clear night skies, a sea of stars twinkling radiantly on the black field above. I breathed in the cool evening breeze, letting its wind tickle my cheeks and ruffle my wavy locks. The gravel crackled beneath my steps as I wandered deeper into the gardens.

Cynthia was sitting on an ivory fountain that was adorned by a marble statue of the goddess Sol. On the goddess' hands was a miniature sun, water trickling down from its swirling rays.

From where I stood, it appeared as though Cynthia was a piece of the fountain itself. She was staring solemnly at the moon, holding a rose underneath her chin. She glanced sideways, taking note of my presence.

Cynthia jerked upright. "C-Clary...how long have you been here?"

I perched onto the fountain beside her, the water splashes blocking any kind of noise. It was no wonder why Cynthia hadn't heard my footsteps.

"Not long," I finally answered. "Why are you outside?"

Cynthia's gown suited her personality, cream and dandelion-yellow and cinnamon. The bodice was embroidered with metallic threads in the shape of flowers, her flowing sleeves were made of shimmering tulle and the high neckline was trimmed with laces. The skirt was a yellow tulip in bloom, growing darker in shade as it reached the ground.

"I like this place better." It wasn't the answer I was looking for. She settled the rose atop her lap. "What about you?"

"I needed to take a breather." I braced my palms onto my sides. "It's suffocating in there."

Cynthia snorted. "No kidding."

I tilted my head. "You think so, too? Is that why you haven't been attending the balls for the last two years?"

Her shoulder twitched. Seeing it, a pang of guilt hit my chest.

I bit my inner cheek. "Forgive me, I did not mean to pry—"

"It's fine, Clary." Cynthia smiled reassuringly. "Really, it is. I shouldn't be surprised that you know that by now."

I loosened a sigh. "Lady Ruth told me."

"I figured." She picked up the rose again, twisting it with her fingers. "I've been lying to myself for the past two years, Clary."

A knot formed between my brows. "How so?"

"I make up excuses that I avoid those people and their pretentious gatherings to protect myself, to survive." Her fingers curled tight around the stem. "But in truth, it is because seeing them makes me think of Athelina. That entire godsforsaken palace reminds me of her. Everyday, I keep thinking that I should have tried hard enough to mend our relationship before it was too late. She was right, I am too weak to do anything of worth."

I balled my fists, nails digging into my skin. Unsure of what to say, I said, "Cynthia—"

She cut me off and continued, "You're also part of the lies I tell myself, Clary."

My throat constricted. "Why is that?"

"I have been bent on wanting you as my friend, sending you flowers and inviting you to the orphanage," she said, her voice wavering. "Some sick part of me says I did it because I'm using you to fill Athelina's absence, especially since you speak, act and look the same. And to make up for my regret, to cope. I suppose it's true."

The rustling of the leaves, the chirping of crickets, the muffled music coming from the ballroom pouring through the windows—these sounds settled in the silence that came next.